


Give It All Away

by dorianbutt (cullerofwaves)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Beast Koujaku, Biting, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, DMMd Big Bang, DMMd Big Bang 2017, Disassociation, Dubious Consent, Emotional Sex, FWB, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hatesex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Maybe - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Miscommunication, Pining, Praise Kink, Referenced Past Trauma, Rough Sex, Scratching, Unrequited Love, Violent Sex, by that i mean koujakus mom is fucking dead rip, canonical elements, everybody has issues, inappropriate reaction to a haircut, its actually not nearly as bad as canon these tags make it seem way worse than it is, possible PTSD, sex as a coping mechanism, theres really not that much sex in this why are there so many tags, those last two are just mentioned, way too much sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cullerofwaves/pseuds/dorianbutt
Summary: There was no real reason to be upset about it. Koujaku didn't want him, so what? It wasn't any different than the other times he'd been rejected.Except it was different.It was Koujaku.It had always been Koujaku.(Also known as Sly falls disgustingly hard for his idiot best friend and both of them are absolutely terrible about discussing it.)





	Give It All Away

**Author's Note:**

> would you believe i started writing the first third of this like 3 years ago and then finished the rest of it in like 3 months for the big bang???? the concept of time is wild  
> anyway i had a lot fun with this! i got to collab with the amazingly talented sketchygoat who drew a [companion piece](http://sketchygoat.tumblr.com/post/161324356362/so-anyway-heres-my-entry-of-illustrations-to) to this fic (holy wow) and i would strongly encourage you all to check out the rest of the artwork created by this wonderful artist  
> also shout out to the mods for setting this whole thing up and all of the other writers/artists who worked to make this project happen. high fives all around.  
> its not explicitly mentioned but aoba is ace/aro because if desire was a separate person then aoba would HAVE no desire right???? rIGHT????  
> im GENIUS  
> this is hands down the cheesiest thing ive ever written enjoy

_“Aoba's brother?”_

He began to hate that phrase.

“ _You're Aoba's brother, right?”_

Aoba's brother. The shadow that trailed behind him. Nameless. Faceless. The 'other one'. Just a worthless, vile, unwanted extension of his twin.

“Sly,” a hand almost twice the size of his own extended towards him, “come here.”

_“What's your name?”_

_A pause. “Sly Blue.”_

_“Sly, then. Sly and Aoba.”_

_Sly and Aoba, he had said._

_Sly._

_Like he existed outside of his brother._

He swept the back of his tiny hand across his nose and scowled at Aoba, who was currently occupying the arm not reaching for him. “I'm not a crybaby like he is.”

Koujaku sighed and gave him a tired look. “Sly,” he said again, softer this time, “come here.”

Hesitation. Stubbornness. But eventually Koujaku's arm looked all too inviting and he abandoned his swing in favor of it. Koujaku's long fingers trailed up and down his back soothingly and he fisted his small hands into the red kimono. He couldn't cry with his face buried in it. That would get it wet. He couldn't get Koujaku's favorite kimono wet.

After a bit, Koujaku pulled back and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Tae-san's just late, ok? She'll be back. Tell you what, I'll walk you two home.” He made a move like he was going to stand, then seemed to think better of it and pulled them both in close to him. “Don't give in,” he told them quietly. Then he flashed them a gentle smile and stood.

_Don't give in._

What did he mean by that? Don't give in. It didn't make sense. Maybe it would when he was older. Koujaku _was_ older than him after all.

He felt a pang of jealousy when Aoba was the first to grab Koujaku's hand, winning him the affectionate smile that followed. But his anger faded when Koujaku took his own hand as well. He liked that. He liked that Koujaku remembered he was there too.

His hand was warm.

 

_Don't give in._

He was older now, but it still didn't make much sense.

Aoba shifted in his lap and groaned sleepily. He always ended up sprawling across him and Koujaku. But neither of them protested it much, aside from the occasional snark now and then. Aoba was warm and light and didn't fidget much. Besides, when they sat like this Koujaku's arm draped across his shoulder and long fingers unconsciously rubbed his t-shirt sleeve.

“Hey, Koujaku,” he said, closing his bleary eyes against the bright flash of the television screen and dropping his head onto Koujaku's shoulder. “Is red your favorite color?”

“Mm, I think it's a tie between red and blue. Thanks to you two,” he added with a grin.

Strands of blue hair were gently separated by fingers that left his arm. It hurt a bit, but he didn't mind. “Really?” he murmured, moving so as to press his cheek more against Koujaku's chest than his shoulder. “I like red.”

 

He hated the airport. It was too loud, too crowded, too eerily clean. The dazzling white floors stung his eyes if he looked at them too long, but he stared them down anyway. It was better than having to watch his teary-eyed twin hug Koujaku goodbye.

He snorted. Crybaby.

“Your turn.” He heard Koujaku's voice rise up from within the bustle of the airport and reluctantly tore his eyes away from the pristine ground.

Koujaku was holding his hand out to him again.

He took it without hesitation.

The warmth of skin and silk enveloped him and he met it with one hand through Koujaku's hair and the other twined around his neck. It hurt. His chest felt heavy. Koujaku's hands on the small of his back were less _comforting_ and more _terrifying._ But he clung to him tightly and memorized every detail with as much strength as he could muster. So when Koujaku broke away to press their foreheads together and mutter, “Don't give in,” he buried the memory deep within his mind.

Aoba was looking at him, but he mutely refused to unglue his eyes from the floor. Maybe it was for Sly’s benefit, maybe it was for his own, but whichever it was, Aoba slipped his hand into his brother's and squeezed lightly.

He squeezed back, grateful for the gesture.

“I'll come visit soon!” Koujaku shouted through cupped hands as the plane began boarding. “And I'll call you both every day until I get back!”

They didn't stop waving until they could no longer see him.

           

Two months later, the famed Platinum Jail was finally completed.

Contact between Midorijima and the mainland was cut off almost entirely.

For weeks after, neither twin said a word when the other crawled into his bed during the night.

 

Rhyme quickly gained popularity with the addition of Usui. Mostly among young people. A few Ribsteez groups had even turned to Rhyme, causing discord amongst the players that eventually turned into an all-out rivalry.

Koujaku was a Rib player.

Sly tried not to think about that the first time he did Rhyme.

Everyone he had spoken with said the game was like a drug. Exhilarating. Addictive. Once you were in it, it wasn't easy to get out. Sly had been told more than once that he would be a natural.

The more time passed, the more he felt drawn to the game. He was fading again. The invisibility clawed at his back and dragged him down into the sea of shadows. It terrified him. He couldn't become a shadow again. Not after he had finally proven his existence.

The field around him was bright blue. There was a familiar comfort within the color.

The first strike hit him square in the back before he had the chance to block.

Almost instantaneously, pain bloomed in his shoulders and choked his cry of shock in the back of his throat. It hurt. Ithurtithurtithurt, white hot pain rippled down his spine and it hurt so... Good.

A tiny laugh bubbled up like foam in his mouth. God it _hurt,_ the pain flowed through him like electricity and morphed into pleasure when it reached his skin. He couldn't get enough. It really was like a drug. When he finally landed a hit on his opponent, the whimpers that followed sent a shiver down his spine. He had never felt so _alive._ Never before had he felt his existence so strongly.

_Destroy._

He longed to crush his opponent. Make them hurt. Make them remember him.

_Destroy._

_Destroy destroy destroy._

_Destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy destroy._

_Desire._

The word echoed numbly in the back of his mind. Desire? For what? Destruction? Pain? He didn't know. He didn't care. All he knew was that the feeling of wrecking his opponent's mind in Rhyme was almost orgasmic.

The game ended with his opponent quaking in terror and Sly feeling higher than he ever had in his life.

So this was what it felt like to exist.

 

“We're your biggest fans, Sly Blue.”

Golden eyes narrowed against eerie blue ones. Sly didn't like the way he had said his name. Like he knew something. Like he _wanted_ Sly to know he knew something but with just enough discretion that Sly couldn't put his finger on _what_ he knew exactly.

“We've heard about your, ah,” he and the other one exchanged looks, _“unusual_ fighting style in Rhyme. It's called Scrap, is it not?”

Ah, there it was.

Sly leaned back on his heels and casually stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You two twins or somethin'?” he asked, jerking his chin coolly towards the two men.

“We're not twins.”

“We are not twins.”

Sly snorted. “You shittin' me? The fuck are you then?”

The one in the glasses smiled again and Sly felt goosebumps crawl up his neck at how serpentine the action made him look. “Like I said, we're your biggest fans.”

 

He didn't remember losing his virginity. The details were vague, the sensations blurred together, the girl’s name was forgotten. But that didn't bother him. None of it really mattered much anyway.

He was drunk on the feeling of sex. He had never felt so _aware_ of his own body. Feeling like an unseen piece of his twin had caused him to disregard his own flesh and blood. But with someone else's hands, mouth, skin pressed up against his own he became hypersensitive and conscious of his body for the first time.

With shaking hands, he slicked his sweat-dampened bangs off his forehead and ran his tongue over his top lip. The fingers that fisted into his hair tugged hard in response and he let out a shaky sigh. It was hot. It hurt. It felt so damn good and teeth grazed his neck and wandering hands seared his skin. He couldn't see. He didn't remember closing his eyes but that was ok because the movement was rougher and more intense and he was so close already before his voice overwhelmed him and white hot pleasure shot through him like lightning.

He came down from his high with panting breaths, trembling limbs, and a tiny grin toying at his mouth.

The back alleys of the Old Resident district were startling contradictions to themselves. The buildings looked like something you’d find in a red-light zone, with hookers on the corners and flashy neon signs on the buildings. The streets, in contrast, were dirty and glassy-eyed addicts were almost always strewn about the sidewalk. Fighting and drugs were a regular occurrence. Hands wandered over bodies in the dark alleyways. Everything opposed each other.

Sly slinked out from one of the alleys, wonderfully sated. It was fun, so, so much fun. Choosing a new partner to sleep with every time he was in the mood got him fucked without forcing him to worry about romantic commitment. He’d been favoring men lately. Women were soft and bashful and quivered so beautifully beneath him. But men were rough and their skin was hot and they made a shaking mess out of him.

“Sly.” Virus was waiting for him outside of the alleyway, smiling with his mouth instead of his eyes. It was borderline creepy how they always managed to know where Sly was, and he had asked them more than once if they were tracking him. “Usui’s going to appear a bit north of here soon, if you’re in the mood for a game.”

Sly clicked his tongue. “I’ll pass,” he mused. “Aoba wanted me to help him program some allmate he found. Made me promise I wouldn’t ditch him again.”

“Your loss,” Trip muttered in return, rubbing the back of his neck with a lazy grin.

They wandered the streets for a bit, Sly a few paces ahead, like the alpha male in a pack of wolves. He didn’t mind hanging around them too much. Especially when everyone else cleared the streets to make room for them. He liked the power he held when he was with them. They had planned to duck into one of the multiple bars that littered the place and swipe whatever alcohol they could get their hands on, when-

“Sly!”

He bristled in irritation at the sound of his name and flicked his gaze upward. To his surprise, Aoba was sprinting towards him.

“Sly!” he shouted again, coming to a stop, breathless and grinning, in front of his brother.

“Aoba?” Sly countered, his reply coming out as more of a statement than a question. “What happened? Why the hell are you here?”

“Koujaku’s back!”

Sly’s pulse thumped loudly through his head, then it seemed to stop entirely. “Really…?” he said softly. Then he broke out into a grin. “You serious?!”

Aoba nodded feverishly, absolutely beaming. “If we run, we can catch him before he leaves the airport.”

“The fuck are you standing here for then?!” Sly laughed, his eyes wild with excitement, and grabbed Aoba’s hand as he took off running.

By the time they reached the airport, both boys were out of breath and rapidly scanning the area. Jet black hair to his left caught his eye. Koujaku? Maybe. His hair was longer than he had remembered, the longest part of it tied back and barely stretching to his shoulders. He’d grown at least a foot too. But a flash of red erased his doubts and he shouted Koujaku’s name.

The man turned around.

Red eyes.

_Koujaku._

Without warning, Sly flung himself into Koujaku’s chest, Aoba close behind. He didn’t register the fact that he had nearly knocked Koujaku off his feet or that he had beaten Aoba into his arms for once or that the official-looking men behind him were scowling at the display because he was immersed in everything that was _Koujaku._ The red silk of his kimono that slipped between his fingers, the scent of shampoo that lingered on his neck, the sound of Koujaku’s deep voice laughing at shouting something he didn’t quite catch. Slender fingers tugged on his shoulders and Koujaku held him and his twin at arm’s length. His hair had grown longer in the front too, completely covering his right eye and hanging almost to his chin. His face had lost its childlike softness and was all sharp angles and deep shadows now. His jawline, his cheekbones. A dark scar ran across his nose. But his eyes were full of fire and they burned behind Sly's lids as Koujaku pulled them both back to his chest.

The next time time he pulled away, he moved to press Sly and Aoba's foreheads to his. It was a little awkward with three people, but all of them had missed the gesture enough that they didn't notice.

“The last time I saw you two, I could put my chin on your heads and now you’re almost eye-level with me!”

“Like you didn’t grow a fucking foot and a half!” Sly shot back, his upper lip curling in a sarcastic sneer.

“Koujaku, will you come stay at our house tonight?”

At that Koujaku’s smile twitched. Then he squeezed Aoba’s shoulder and looked between the two of them. “Not tonight, ok?” he said quietly. He had kept his voice low, but something had caused it to waver. Anxiety? Anger? Whatever it was, it vanished when his soft smile returned. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow for sure.”

 

Tomorrow couldn’t arrive quickly enough. Aoba and Sly spent the night in the same bed again, a blanket tossed over the both of them and a flashlight underneath. They spent a good portion of the night talking in excited whispers. What had Koujaku been doing? Would he be different? Would he stay in Midorijima from now on? They fell asleep a few hours into their conversation, but made sure to pick it up the next day. They shouted questions over breakfast, plotted stories at random intervals, interjected here and there until Granny finally banished them from the room.

The second the doorbell rang, Sly and Aoba were scrambling over each other to open the door. There was no need, however, as Koujaku barged through it himself and swept them both up into a bear hug the moment he entered.

“God I’ve missed you two!” he shouted, grinning wickedly at each of them in turn.

They shot him beaming smiles of their own, which immediately turned to smacking good-naturedly at his hands as he attempted to ruffle their hair. “Welcome back!” Sly shouted over his brother’s defensive yelp.

Koujaku’s grin broadened, if that was even possible, and his arms found their way around their necks again to yank both of them back in close. “Yeah,” he sighed happily, “I’m home.”

 

Sly yawned and stretched his arms behind his head until his joints popped. Tae’s cooking always made him drowsy. He was full and warm and all of his energy had been expended in the hyper reunion with Koujaku. Sly barely even noticed him, fresh from the shower, until Koujaku poked his cheek with a damp finger. “Hey.”

“What?” he grumbled sleepily, swatting Koujaku’s hand away.

“Where’s your hairbrush?”

“Bedroom.”

He mussed Sly’s hair as he turned onto his side and closed his eyes. “‘Kay.”

He had only been dozing for a few moments when he remembered that his brush was in the chest at the foot of his bed. Even though Koujaku still knew his way around the house, he wouldn’t know to look there. With a reluctant grunt, Sly rolled himself off the couch, pulled the blanket over his head like a large, fluffy poncho, and shuffled up the stairs. Aoba was probably asleep by now. He hadn’t been downstairs in over thirty minutes, and Sly knew he got tired too after eating Tae’s food.

He cracked the door open and almost opened his mouth to tell Koujaku the location of his hairbrush, but quickly shut it again. Aoba had fallen asleep, as predicted, still fully clothed and his headphones over his ears. He looked peaceful; one arm around his waist, the other on his headphones.

Koujaku was hovering above him, eyes scanning his sleeping frame with something that almost looked like embarrassment. His tongue flicked out between his lips. Then, with as little movement as possible so as not to wake the sleeping boy, Koujaku grasped the comforter at the foot of Aoba’s bed and pulled it up to his shoulders. He looked like he was about to turn, but hesitated for a split second to brush Aoba’s bangs off his forehead. He was gentle enough that Aoba didn’t stir.

Sly decided to make his presence known by whispering Koujaku’s name. He flinched hard at the sound, his hand coming up to his chest. “God, you _scared_ me,” he hissed in response, mouth fading into a smile.

Sly flashed him a lazy smirk of his own and pointed to the chest. “Hairbrush.” He heard a muttered thanks as he crawled into bed and burrowed deeper into his blanket. It smelled nice, like laundry detergent and Tae’s perfume. It made him calm and drowsy.

“Hey,” Koujaku said, his voice warm like the hand he placed on Sly’s shoulder. “Scooch over.”

“What about Aoba?” Sly rumbled, rolling his way across the bed.

“We’re too big for all of us to sleep in the same bed anymore. Besides, he’s already asleep.”

“Mmm, ok,” Sly mumbled, worming his way under Koujaku’s arm and on top of his chest. He could feel his heartbeat. The gentle thump against his cheek and the warm skin against nose. His breathing coming in deep, mellow waves. Even the scent of shampoo drifting up from his still-damp hair seemed to lull Sly into an easy, dreamless sleep. Deep enough that he could hardly feel the twinge of pain from Koujaku’s fingertips against his scalp.

Deep enough that he couldn’t feel Koujaku jerk awake in the middle of the night.

 

Koujaku stuck around the next morning, happy for breakfast and seemingly reluctant to go home. He even volunteered to help with dishes (for which Tae shot her grandsons a repremansive look) and shoed them away warm-heartedly when they tried to take over.

They snuck away to the living room before Tae could get on them about it too much. Everything felt like it was back to normal. Sure, they were older, but Koujaku was home now and the three of them were glued at the hip again, just like how it had been before he left. They watched the same movies, played the same games, made the same jokes. It was like he had never really left in the first place.

Sly lay half across the couch and half across Aoba, eyes unfocusing on the ceiling. Aoba was talking about something, but he didn’t seem particularly bothered with Sly’s apparent distraction. Sly guessed he was speaking more to himself anyway. Something about allmates again.

“You don’t miss the mainland then?”

Koujaku and Tae were talking softly in the kitchen, loud enough to hear but quiet enough so as not to announce their conversation. Sly tossed his arms over the back of the couch tuned in more on them than on his brother.

“No, I missed Midorijima.”

“You met your father.”

“We didn’t get along.”

“And your mother?”

Koujaku’s hands froze on the dish he was drying. He looked at the ground, attempting a smile that ended up twisted and distraught. “She won’t be coming back.” His eyes were wet and his voice was the smallest he’d ever heard it.

If Tae was surprised by that, she didn’t show it. She just huffed and rinsed the suds off another dish. “Well, you’re always welcome here.”

He really smiled at her that time, small and grateful. “Thank you, Tae-san,” he said softly.

It was then that Sly realized that Aoba had stopped talking, focused on the conversation in the kitchen with him. They glanced at each other, confused and maybe a little nervous. What did he mean, she wasn’t coming back?

They would talk about it later, huddled under the blankets together with their flashlight. They would toss theories at each other half-heartedly; maybe she had decided to stay with Koujaku’s father, maybe she had sent Koujaku back to Midorijima for schooling, maybe this, maybe that. It didn’t matter. It was easy enough for them to realize the truth, even if they didn’t say it out loud.

Neither of them mentioned it to Koujaku.

 

It didn’t take long for Koujaku to get popular once he was back in Midorijima. He had picked up hairdressing somewhere on the mainland, and after both Sly and Aoba had refused to let him anywhere near their hair, he took to cutting hair in the streets. He was surprisingly good at it, and within a few months he had a fanbase bigger than his Rib team.

Some of Koujaku’s fans were a little... _intense_ for the their taste though. Aoba had his own group of friends, and Sly stuck with Virus and Trip most of the time.

Sly knew Koujaku had been sleeping around. He wasn’t jealous or anything; he had done the same, after all. And it wasn’t his business anyway. What did he care if Koujaku flirted with all his clients, or if he had a different girl hanging off his arm every day, of if he caught him hiding his most recent date’s underwear when he and Aoba came over, pictured some girl’s legs wrapped around his back instead of _his--_

He _wasn’t_ jealous.

He _was_ entirely drunk.

In fact, entirely was a bit of an understatement. Sly was completely smashed. Flat-out wasted. He had been in two fights already and was just _itching_ for a third. Maybe it was the taste of iron in his mouth from his split lip that was making him so bloodthirsty.

He nearly ran into a pair of boys a bit older than him while stumbling his way into the only bar he hadn’t been kicked out of yet. “Watch it,” he grumbled, shouldering them aside.

“Sly Blue?”

At the mention of his name, he stopped and flashed them a dirty look over his shoulder.

The taller of the two was giving him a shit-eating grin, his cronie smirking behind him. _“The_ Sly Blue? The infamous, unbeatable Rhymer? Roarin’ drunk and bleedin’ everywhere? Well, guess luck is in our favor, ey?” he giggled, elbowing his friend in the ribs gleefully.

Sly turned on his heels lazily, swiping the back of his hand under his nose to check if it was still bleeding. It was. “Two against one?” he droned, his words slowed and drawn out thanks to the alcohol. “Aw, that’s not fair, is it?”

“Never said we fight fair.” The taller one shrugged, shivering with excitement.

In the back of his mind, Sly heard a tiny voice. _Crush them,_ it whispered, _BREAK THEM._

Their drive-by field was a deep, pulsating violet that seemed to throb in time with the blood rushing through his ears. He leaned back and allowed himself to soak it all in, nearly _trembling_ in exhilaration.

_Break them._

He wasn’t sure if he had said those words out loud or not.

_Destroy them._

His skin felt like it was on fire.

_DESTROY THEM._

Everything went white.

_DESTROY._

_DESTROY._

_DESTROY._

 

 

 

d                      e                      s                      i                       r                       e           

 

 

 

 

The next thing Sly was aware of was a throbbing ache in his head. It was like someone had pried open his skull and was pushing on it from all sides. Relentless. Pounding. His body felt like lead. Any attempt he made to move caused both his brain and his limbs to scream in pain, threatening to drag him back down into unconsciousness. It hurt to think. It hurt to breathe. His left arm was twisted uncomfortably at his side so that his palm faced the ceiling. When he shifted it, something stung and pricked at the muscle of his forearm.

It took him a few minutes to register that the warm weight pressed up against his thigh was another person. It took longer than that for him to open his eyes and let them wander the dark room. _Hospital,_ he thought dully. There was a door to his right, a window to his left and an IV was inserted into his arm. The entire room was painted sterile white, enough to make Sly vaguely uneasy.

The exception was the mass of red by his leg.

Koujaku was asleep on his arms, back rising and falling steadily with his slow, deep breaths. He looked calm. Not serene or peaceful or anything, just calm. Like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep and was finally getting a chance to rest. The way he was leaning heavily on the bed hinted at his exhaustion.

Sly stared at him for a bit, tracing over the curve of his back and the dip of his shoulders with his eyes. Then he reached forward and brushed his fingers through Koujaku’s hair softly. His arm was sore and his joints were stiff, but Koujaku’s hair was slick and cool to the touch. His fingers threaded a little deeper.

The muscles in Koujaku’s face twitched, his sleep disturbed. He inhaled deeply, rolling his shoulders and just barely opening his eyes.

“Hey there,” Sly whispered, continuing his ministrations through Koujaku’s hair.

Koujaku stayed still for a moment, blinking owlishly. Then something clicked and he grinned. “Yo,” he whispered breathlessly. “You’re awake.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Koujaku huffed happily and pushed himself up, taking Sly’s face gently into his hands. “How do you feel?”

“Lousy,” Sly grunted, putting a heavy hand on the back of Koujaku’s neck to clumsily tug their foreheads together.

“Mmm. You’re hot.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“I meant you’ve got a fever,” Koujaku said, replacing his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Your hands are cold,” Sly hummed, pleased. “They feel nice.”

Koujaku cupped his face in both hands again and laughed when Sly practically purred and covered them with his own.

“Where’s Aoba?”

“Home with Tae-san. We’ve been taking turns staying here at night.”

“Mmm.” Sly stayed silent for a moment, running his thumbs slowly over Koujaku’s scarred knuckles. Then, wincing, he shifted onto the side of the bed opposite Koujaku and patted the empty space. “Come sleep here.”

“Hmm?” Koujaku let his mouth slip into an amused smirk.

Sly stuck out his arms and made grabby hands. “Koooujaku.” He flashed him a cheesy grin like he used to when he was younger. “Come sleep here with meee.”

“Are you high off pain meds or has your fever turned you into a little kid again?” Koujaku teased, but he was already climbing into the small hospital bed.

It barely fit the two of them. But that was fine. That was better than fine, because his head was on Koujaku’s chest and his arm was around Koujaku’s waist and the fingers weaving through his hair were threatening to put him to sleep. Sly curled in closer, earning him a happy sigh. He knew Koujaku was a sucker for cuddling. He was too, but there was no way he’d ever admit it out loud.

He could hear Koujaku’s heartbeat.

He watched his arm rise and fall with Koujaku’s breaths. It was shockingly relaxing, breathing in time with him. A subtle reminder of his own existence. A reminder that Koujaku had always known he existed. That Koujaku had always cared for him.

The silence was broken when Koujaku paused the motions against his scalp and murmured softly, “Hey.”

“Mm.”

“Does it hurt when I touch your hair?”

Sly blinked languidly. “Why do you ask?”

The shoulder underneath him shrugged. “Aoba mentioned that you both have really sensitive hair. That’s why he doesn’t like me touching his.”

Sly paused. “Yeah. Sometimes. But not when _you_ touch it.” It was true. Partially true anyway.

Koujaku make a clicking sound with his tongue, not seeming entirely satisfied with his answer. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Fuck no,” Sly grumbled, wriggling closer to his chest.

“Then tell me if it hurts ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Like you could keep your hands off anyway.”

He rumbled with laughter. “I can’t help it. Mark of a hairdresser I guess.”

They were both quiet for a while after that. Just listening to each others sleepy breathing. Then, barely above a whisper, Sly mumbled, “Cut my hair.

He felt Koujaku stiffen beneath him. “What?” he croaked.

“I want you to cut my hair short. So me n’ Aoba will look different.”

Koujaku swallowed dryly. “U-uh…yeah. Yeah, sure. ‘Course,” he replied breathlessly, suddenly seeming nervous. His tongue sounded thick in his mouth and a tiny smile quirked at his lips. “When, uh, when do you want to do it?”

“Once they let me outta here.”

“Mm,” he affirmed. He rubbed a hand up and down Sly’s arm. “Y’know, I...I’ve always wanted to cut your hair.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Both you and Aoba, but I doubt he’ll ever let me cut his.”

Sly’s eyelids felt heavy. He allowed them to fall shut.

“I’m actually kind of excited about it.”

Koujaku’s voice sounded distant and muffled. “Yeah,” Sly whispered, “me too.”

 

“Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready for like ten minutes, come _on_ , Koujaku.”

“All right, all right. And you’re sure about this?”

“Koujaku, if you don’t hurry up and cut the damn thing I’m gonna rip the scissors outta your hand and hack it off myself.”

Sly had turned around in his chair so he could glare at Koujaku face to face. He still looked uncertain. Sly couldn’t blame him. It had been a spur-of-the-moment idea and he wasn’t entirely comfortable with it himself.

But Koujaku gently turned Sly’s head so he was facing away from him and slipped his fingers through the fine strands of blue. “Here goes,” he grunted.

The first pieces hit the floor.

Sly inhaled sharply and his fist tightened on the leg of his jeans. Koujaku was watching him. Making sure it hadn’t hurt. He forced himself to keep a straight face.

Koujaku must have bought it, because he went back to his work with a focused determination. Sly didn’t know if he wanted him to hear his breathing becoming laboured or not. Feels his arms trembling or not. He wanted him to stop and he wanted him to keep going and it hurt and he was getting hard just from the feeling of Koujaku’s fingertips on his bare neck alone and-

“You doing ok?”

Sly opened his mouth to speak, but clamped it shut to keep from whining when Koujaku carded a hand through his remaining hair. “‘M fine,” he answered quickly, arousal dangerously close to seeping into his voice.

Koujaku’s hand left his hair and picked up the scissors again. He was only styling it now. Snipping off the longer parts so it would lay flat and neat. That meant Koujaku was touching the back of his neck and tracing over his jawline.

Sly bit his lip.

After what seemed like an eternity, Koujaku finally ruffled his hair and shouted gleefully, “Done!”

“Lemme see!”

“Nope.” Koujaku was positively beaming. “Go wash all the hair off of your neck first while I sweep this up.”

Sly groaned in complaint, letting his head loll back overdramatically.

“Stop whining.” Koujaku poked his cheek, amused.

Sly only groaned louder and draped himself over the back of the chair. “Fine,” he sighed loudly, hauling himself off the chair and into the shower

He kept the water hot. Hot enough that when he inhaled he could feel the steam clouding into his lungs and the wall felt cool when he pressed his palms against it. He felt light. High. His hair didn’t weigh on his scalp and he could feel the linger of Koujaku’s fingers on his neck. Touching. Tracing. Scraping his short nails against his nape. Pulling on the fine hair below his ears.

He felt hot.

Sly leaned forward onto his arm, dragging his other hand up his stomach, his chest. He switched to his neck, scratching gently. He felt hot. He felt _alive._ It was too good to stop but not enough to get him off.

He wrapped a hand around himself and pulled upward in short, loose strokes. His lips parted on a sigh. Koujaku was right outside, probably waiting for him. The thought made him move faster.

He closed his eyes and let himself imagine Koujaku’s hands roving over his body. Gripping his hips. His hair. His mouth on his neck and his teeth on his collarbone. Sly shivered and slumped forward further, digging his teeth into the back of his hand to keep from moaning too loudly. His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps.

It was funny. So, so funny. He laughed out loud against his hand before it dipped lower into a moan. Here he was, masturbating in the shower after getting turned on by a fucking _haircut._ Fantasizing about his best friend. Jacking off in his shower for fuck’s sake.

Christ.

He bit hard enough into his hand to break the skin on his knuckles, his entire body tensing as he came. White splattered against the wall. He shuddered with the aftershocks when he could breathe again, rolling his hips against his hand in jerking motions. The only sounds in the room were the pattering of the shower and Sly’s panting breaths.

And muffled voices.

Someone else was with Koujaku.

Sly switched off the water and dried himself off quickly, grimacing when his clothes stuck to his still-damp skin. He almost pulled the towel over his shoulders to prevent his hair from getting his clothing wet, but then remembered his hair had been cut short and tossed it over his head instead.

The voices got louder when he opened the door. One of them was distinctly Koujaku, babbling on about one of his more peculiar clients. The other one he would have known anywhere, the clear, cheerful laugh that was just a bit more energetic than usual.

“Aoba!” Sly sang, wheeling around the corner to find his brother, Koujaku, and a bottle of wine between the two of them.

“Sly!” Aoba shouted in return, beaming and jumping to his feet. “Did you cut it?”

Sly poked his tongue out between his teeth. “Maybe.” He snorted when Aoba practically squealed in delight. “Little tipsy are ya?”

“Maybe,” he teased back, sticking his tongue out. “Show me!”

“‘S all wet,” he said, to which Aoba responded by immediately toweling off his twin’s hair. Sly cackled and shoved him off, tugging the towel off his hair, shaking his head like a dog, and striking a pose.

Aoba ran his fingers through the damp strands while Koujaku wolf-whistled behind him, grinning like a fox. “Wow,” Aoba breathed.

“You like it?”

“It’s wonderful!” He whipped around to Koujaku. “You did a great job.”

Koujaku smiled. “Thank you.”

There was something about that smile. Something in it that made Sly’s grin twitch. The way he looked at Aoba was different than the way he looked at Sly. Softer. Sweeter. His gaze lingered just a bit too long, his eyes were just a bit too warm, his face lost the sharp lines and dark shadows Sly had come to know so well. It was almost like…

Like…

_Oh._

The realization hit him hard, like he had been plunged into ice water. He could breathe, but he was drowning. He could move, but his joints were stiff and numb. The smile that normally warmed his ribcage instead turned his blood cold.

_Oh._

_Koujaku was in love with his brother._

Suddenly all of the Koujaku’s little tics made sense. Why he always reached for Aoba’s hair but pinched his nose or flicked his forehead when he realized what he was doing. Why he put his arm around Aoba’s waist instead of his shoulders like he did with Sly. Why he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away when Aoba was sleeping and why his hands had shook when he had pulled a blanket over him.

Koujaku was in _love_ with his brother.

How had he missed it?

He was quick to fake a smile and not to fake a laugh over Aoba’s drunken gawking. He didn’t say anything. Why would he? It was always Aoba. It had always _been_ Aoba.

But Koujaku had made him feel alive.

He swallowed those feelings along with his own.

 

It wasn’t exactly an “It’s not you, it’s me” speech because Aoba technically hadn’t been asked out. It wasn’t that he didn’t like guys (theoretically) like, say, Koujaku (theoretically) or even girls (theoretically) -- he just didn’t like anyone. Not that way at least. He was happy to be friends and no desire to take anything further.

It technically wasn’t a rejection, so it (theoretically) shouldn’t have broken Koujaku’s heart.

Aoba couldn’t tell. Koujaku had become very accustomed to controlling his emotions and he still cared for Aoba as a friend even if he couldn’t care for him as a lover. He would still tease Aoba relentlessly any time he beat him at a video game, Aoba would mock him for eating like a hippo when he’d take second helpings at dinner, they’d both laugh over stupid movies together and shout quotes at each other for weeks on end.

Sly was the only one who noticed a difference.

He’d gotten used to watching Koujaku the same way Koujaku watched Aoba. The longing glances, the way his smile dropped when he thought no one was looking. It was disgusting. Koujaku was like a lovesick puppy. A kicked puppy at that. He couldn’t stand it, watching the man he’d admired for years melt every time Aoba so much as elbowed him in the damn ribcage. How had he looked up to an absolute dimwit like that for so long?

How had he loved him for so long?

No, scratch that. Sly didn’t love _people._ He loved Tae’s donuts and electronic music and good fights but he didn’t love _people._ Tae didn’t count because she was his grandmother and Aoba didn’t count because he was his twin. He didn’t fall in love with people. He fucked them. He let them fuck him. His relationship with anyone outside his family with a physical one, not a romantic one. Romance wasn’t for him. He didn’t _love_ Koujaku. No. Definitely not. He wanted Koujaku to fuck him senseless, but that was different. He didn’t need all that sappy _love_ bullshit.

“You gotta stop pining after him, y’know,” he muttered into his drink. The three of them had stopped by the Black Needle, and since Mizuki was currently occupying Aoba’s attention, Sly and Koujaku had been left to their own devices. “He’s not _that_ daft; he’s gonna pick up on it eventually.”

Sly’s mouth quirked into an amused smile when the tips of Koujaku’s ears turned red. “You-- ?”

 _“I’m_ not that daft either. And you’re not exactly subtle.”

Koujaku’s mouth flapped stupidly for a moment, then he closed it and sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Y’know,” Sly started again, mischief sparkling in his eyes and his eyebrows wiggling suggestively, “you could always just fuck me instead.”

Koujaku choked on his drink at that, Sly cackling like a hyena. “Jackass,” he coughed, punching Sly in the shoulder.

 

“I was serious, y’know.”

“About what?”

“About fucking me,” Sly murmured. It was a few days later, and Sly was crashing at Koujaku’s place to avoid going home. He had nearly given the man a heart attack when he had shimmied up the fire escape and knocked on his window mid-day.

“I could have had a girl here!”

“But you didn’t,” Sly had shot back, grinning wickedly.

Despite his huffing, Koujaku had allowed him to plop down onto his couch and work on programming for a few hours. They had ordered take-out at some point, and after eating their fill they had both slumped onto the couch in a comfortable silence. Comfortable, that is, until Sly brought up their past conversation.

Koujaku went red at that. “Y-you want me to fuck you?”

“Yeah,” Sly purred, taking a second to look Koujaku up and down. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “What’s the difference? I’ll even act like him if you want me too. All those cute little sounds and expressions he makes.” He was crawling closer to Koujaku now, one hand sneaking up to paw at his chest. “It’ll be just like it’s him, yeah? Go ahead. _Say his name.”_

Sly wasn’t quite sure what it was that stung when Koujaku slapped him; his cheek or his pride. “Get out,” he growled, eyes wild and hands clenched into fists. “Shut your goddamn mouth and get out of my house.”

It threw him. Just a bit, but it threw him. He wasn’t used to being refused. Trying to save face, Sly shrugged it off and scowled right back at Koujaku. He didn’t even bother to grab his jacket before leaving.

He wasn’t entirely sure who he was so pissed at.

He wasn’t entirely sure it mattered.

 

Time didn’t seem to work right for a few days after their spat. It went by far too slowly in the tension-heavy silence of their mutual solitude, but the bite in their words during their forced communion left no room for any sort of apology. It was Aoba who finally lost his temper and shouted at them, “Will you two just make up already!”

“What?” Sly snapped back at him.

“Jesus, do you think it’s _not_ obvious you two are fighting?! Knock it off! I’ve got enough going on without you sticking me in the middle of your bullshit!”

“You think it’s _my_ fault?!”

“Is it?”

Sly shut up quick at that, pulling a face and slouching into himself. Aoba stared him down. _“All right._ I was being kind of a douche,” he grumbled, head bent low and eyes anywhere but the two of them.

“Nah,” Koujaku interjected, shaking his head. “I reacted badly and I shouldn’t have.”

Aoba stood in front of them both, arms folded. His eyes flicked to him, to Koujaku, back to him, eyebrows raised and expectant. Sly waited as long as he could before (reluctantly) turning to look at Koujaku.

They both stared at each other for what was possibly the longest second in existence. Then, out of nowhere, Sly punched him in the shoulder. “Stupid hippo.”

Koujaku recoiled in surprise. But then he sneered and whacked Sly on the back of the head with his palm. “Dumbass.”

 

It didn’t take long for things to go back to mostly-normal after that. They stuck together as friends and eventually Koujaku got so used to Sly’s relentless flirting that he just blew it off. It almost worked too. He could almost pretend that Sly’s taunts didn’t make him laugh nervously or not meet his eye.

Sly absolutely relished it. Every time Koujaku’s cheeks got tinged pink or his voice got a little too high (or too low, when he was failing miserably at keeping his cool) Sly had to bite his tongue to keep from cackling. The best was when he made a particularly provocative comment and Koujaku went ramrod straight. Sly was ruthless whenever he found what _really_ got Koujaku like that, howling with laughter and teasing him for sleeping around so much yet not being able to handle whatever he had come up with that time. “It’s different when it’s a girl!” he would protest, which would only make Sly taunt him further. One time Koujaku got so red he actually had to leave and retreat to the kitchen to calm himself down for a minute. Sly laughed so hard he gave himself the hiccups.

That’s how it usually was, anyway.

It was raining out and Sly didn’t bother to knock before wrenching Koujaku’s door open. He never did; even if Koujaku had his door locked Sly would pester him until he let him in. “Hey, have you been to that new bar on--”

His first clue should have been hazy smoke that filled the room. Koujaku never smoked indoors unless he was by a window. But this time he was spread out across his couch, glowering at Sly like he was ready to tear him apart if he didn’t leave. He looked predatory. Animalistic. Hair down and ragged around his collar. He moved like something inhuman, rolling his shoulders and dipping his head low, brows drawn together sharply, pupils like slits. Sly could see the muscles in his body tense and relax periodically in anticipation. Stalking his prey. Waiting for it to make the first move. “Get out, Sly.”

He felt his heart rate double, eyes wide and a impish smile toying at the corners of his mouth. “Jesus,” he breathed, “what happened to you?”

Koujaku’s eyes narrowed further, if that was possible, and his body pitched forward like he was prowling. “I’m not in the mood.”

He shivered at that, smile too wide and a little maniacal. He felt lightheaded. Airy. Whatever it was that had shifted in Koujaku, it was making his blood run hot again. Adrenaline caused his hands to shake. He felt high. Something in his brain was dying to grab Koujaku and kiss him and something else wanted to wrap his hands around his throat and choke him until he couldn’t breathe.

He was excited.

With calculated steps, he approached Koujaku and watched his upper lip twitch like he was ready to bare his teeth if he got any closer. “Why? I am.” He stroked his hands over the arm of the couch opposite Koujaku, digging his nails in. “What’s going on with you?”

His eyes never left Sly, watching and analyzing his every movement. “I saw a man I knew from the mainland.”

“And he pissed you off?”

Koujaku leaned back and took a drag from his cigarette. He looked far more intimidating than usual; his kimono was open and his tattoos looked like they were almost pulsating, muscles taunt underneath them. “I swore I’d kill him the next time I saw him. I missed my chance,” he growled, rising from his seat and bracing his hands against the back of the couch instead.

Sly sniggered, which was probably a mistake given the look of malice that it got him, but instead of making him flinch and shrink away all it did was exhilarate him.  “Kill him? God, he must’ve fucked up real good to make you promise that.” He pushed his tongue between his lips, eyeing Koujaku up and down.

Koujaku didn’t play along. He put his cigarette between his teeth again and turned away from Sly, expression haughty. “I told you I’m not in the mood. Get out, now.”

Sly hummed low in his throat. “Nah,” he mused, sliding over next to Koujaku and placing his hands on his hips from behind. Koujaku went rigid. “I think I’ll stick around.”

“This is my house and I told you to get out.”

“You’re angry, right? Pissed off? Take it out on me.” His hands stroked over Koujaku’s pelvis, moving down his hipbones and back up again in slow, deliberate motions. “C’mon, nothing wrong with a little stress relief, yeah?

“Sly,” Koujaku warned, and Sly almost shrieked with glee when Koujaku’s voice dropped almost a full octave.

“Go ahead; bite me, break me, use me. I want it all.” He ground up against Koujaku’s thigh, cock already stirring, and laughed when Koujaku honest to god _growled_ at him and snapped his teeth viciously.

“What are you waiting for?”

The next thing he knew he was on his stomach, one hand-- more claw than hand, if he was speaking truthfully -- tight on the back of his neck to keep him from squirming against Koujaku’s bed. Koujaku made a sound behind him, wild, feral, and practically ripped his jeans off his body with his free hand. His nails were sharp where they scraped against his ass and Sly groaned, rolling his hips against the bed.

This was it. This was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he had been asking for. “Fuck,” he crooned, voice high with pleasure. “Just like that, keep going.”

He didn’t know whether or not Koujaku could still hear him anymore, but it didn’t matter when he covered Sly’s body with his own and rubbed up against him. Koujaku was even harder than he was and he let out a shaky, giggling moan, pushing back onto him.

Koujaku’s mouth was right next to his ear and he could hear him panting, hard and heavy. His breath was moist where it hit his cheek in puffs and he shivered when he felt a wet tongue trace the shell of his ear. Koujaku hardly even seemed like himself anymore. Instead of his usual, easy-going attitude he had dipped into something darker. Primal. He let go of his neck only to cover it in bruises that were more bite marks than hickeys. Sly felt the sheets under his cock get sticky with his own arousal.

He felt rather than heard the rumble deep in Koujaku’s throat as he slid one hand down to prod at his ass. And that was so much exactly what he needed in that moment that he arched his back and whined, high and airy, before Koujaku shoved one finger inside him without warning and bit down hard on his neck to hold him still.

Sly choked on a scream, vision going white as immense pain bloomed between his hips and at the top of his spine. Something wet was dripping down his collar and thighs -- his own blood, he realized belatedly -- and Koujaku’s finger was still moving inside of him.

If he could have made any sound besides gasping for breath, he would have been laughing. Koujaku was breaking him, just like he’d asked, and he was so hard it was almost painful. It might have been for all he knew, with the swirling mix of _painpleasurepainpleasurepain_ blurring his senses. Everything was too hot and too sensitive and it overwhelmed him so well he felt like melting.

Koujaku’s erection pressed incessantly at his hip and he gasped, breaking into a cold sweat. “Is that all you’ve got?” he suddenly blurted without thinking, and though he strained to speak his voice was taunting and filled with mirth.

A second finger was forced in alongside the first and now Sly _knew_ he was bleeding with how much that hurt. He let out a weak whine, hips rocking on their own, back against Koujaku, forward against the bed, and Koujaku was sucking the bleeding mark on his neck and pushing his hand up his shirt to scratch pinpricks of blood into his chest and he thought that he’d never felt so good in his life.

The pain from Koujaku’s fingers had barely dulled to a throb instead of a stab when he pulled them out and clawed at his own jeans instead. Sly took the opportunity to flip over onto his back, biting his lip against the sharp sting up his spine. He was shaking hard. Part of him quivered with excitement over what was to come and part of him was screaming at him to get away. It was wonderful. He felt like he was being torn apart and his cock throbbed at the feeling and he dug his nails into his own thighs to get some form of stimulation.

Koujaku moaned above him, carnal and gravely, at the sight. He looked more wrecked than Sly had ever seen him. His hair was a tangled mess, hanging down into his face and obscuring wild eyes and huge, dilated pupils. His breath was coming in heavy puffs, his mouth was streaked with red, his chest was bare and gleamed with sweat as he shucked off his kimono and his tattoos were warped where they twisted down his arms and his sides.

Sly’s hands were gathered together and pinned above his head as Koujaku bucked his hips against his ass and resumed biting marks into his neck. He moaned, helpless to do anything but arch up against him.

Koujaku maneuvered his other hand down to his own cock, lining himself up with Sly before thrusting in as deep as he could go without even giving him time to breathe. Sly let out a strangled yelp before Koujaku was moving at a unforgiving pace and it dissolved into wail of agony. Not that he had long to make noise before Koujaku crushed their mouths together to silence him. It wasn’t so much a kiss as it was a mess of tongue and teeth and Sly was groaning longingly into it, not sure whether his hips were moving to try and get away from Koujaku or to try and match him.

And god, he felt good. Koujaku could split him in half, rip him to shreds, and afterwards he would ask him to do it again and again. He was completely surrounded by heat and skin and the primal need for sex and he never wanted to leave. Koujaku was the only one who could break him like this, where his mind went fuzzy and he desperately sought out any pleasure he could. He was falling apart in ways he never could have imagined. Splintering into pieces of himself that were all searching for one, crucial thing.

_Desire._

He cried out far too loudly when Koujaku’s fingers finally wrapped around his cock and stroked him. He broke the kiss and thrust harder, faster, releasing Sly’s hands to knot his own into Sly’s hair. Sly barely had time to scrabble at his back with blunt nails before Koujaku yanked his hair back hard and he was coming with a choked-off scream. He felt his own release against his stomach and he tightened around Koujaku’s cock so hard that it only took him a few more thrusts before buried himself deep inside him and came with a shout against his shoulder.

Sly quaked with the aftershocks as Koujaku slumped boneless against him. Neither of them could move for a while, trying to regulate their breathing and come down at least a little bit. It took a long moment before Koujaku pushed himself up and the movement made Sly groan, forgotten aches blossoming all over his body. The hair on the back of Koujaku’s neck stood up and he suddenly gripped Sly by the shoulders, the haze slowly clearing from his eyes only to be replaced by pale shock as he realized the damage he’d done.

Sly couldn’t help himself when he laughed low in his chest and Koujaku’s eyes darted to his nearly fearfully. He looked almost cute like that, bravado gone and entirely unsure of what to do. It made Sly want to coo and pet his head and crush him between his fingers. He settled for coiling his arms around Koujaku’s neck, despite his body’s protests, and yanked him down to kiss and bite at his lips, snickering all the while.

“Let’s do it again.”

 

Sex between them became a regular thing after that. Sly wouldn’t exactly call them friends-with-benefits and the sex was more hatesex than anything, violent and brutal, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it. Koujaku would hesitate and Sly would goad him into it until he snapped and fucked him senseless. They would never talk about it after it was done, trading cigarettes and self-loathing and trying to pretend everything was normal. It was always the same.

Except for when it wasn’t.

The first time something was different it didn’t matter. Nothing had really changed between them. They had been sleeping together for a few months -- if Aoba had noticed they were spending more time together without him, he didn’t mention it.

They were both naked, Koujaku’s lower half under the sheets and Sly shamelessly lounging across it on top of them. Koujaku had a cigarette to his lips. Sly was watching the way they moved around it.

Koujaku didn’t notice when he pushed his hair back, but Sly did. He never kept it off his face, not since he had come back from the mainland, and the reason why was suddenly made very apparent. Sharp, black lines were patterned high across his cheekbone and under his eye, mimicking those on his chest and his calf. Something felt different about these ones. Not like the ones on his back, which he had practically forbid Sly from ever touching, but there was still something secretive about it. Something hidden. He couldn’t resist.

Koujaku caught his wrist in a death-grip before he could touch it, frowning at him for even trying. “Haven’t I told you not to touch them?”

“Why? Do you not like them or something?”

His mouth drew thin. “No. Bad memories. The reason I grew my hair out was to cover them up.”

“Hmm. Well I think they’re hot.”

“You’d think it was hot if I had tattoos on my dick.”

Sly chortled. “Ah shit, you know me too well.”

Koujaku smirked at him amusedly before nudging him off his lap so he could lie down. “It’s late. We should go to bed.”

“It’s barely midnight!”

“That’s late.”

“You’re just old.”

Koujaku whapped him with a pillow. He smooshed it down into Sly’s lap before he could get him back, smiling devilishly, then he grabbed the side of his face and turned Sly’s head--

There were lips against his cheek. No warmer than usual but suddenly searing hot when they were the only point of contact on his skin. They lingered, just briefly, just for a few seconds. And then they were gone. They were gone and Koujaku was shaking his head with friendly admonishment before he turned over onto his side. “Goodnight, Sly.”

It took Sly a second to process the whole thing, blinking stupidly. When it finally clicked into place, all he could do was mumble a ‘goodnight’ in return and slink down beside him, back-to-back.

He pushed it from his mind, forcing himself to sleep with Koujaku’s solid form resting close to him.

 

The next time was a little harder to avoid. There was no afterglow to ease his heightened endorphins, no advance notice to assure he wouldn’t be caught like a deer in the headlights. The only things he had to help him make sense of it all were his own thoughts.

His thoughts had never been kind to him.

He pushed his fingers through his sweat-damp hair, panting and fucked out. He felt good. Even the hazy, off-white of his bedroom ceiling and the lingering scent of smoke seemed to continue his blissed out state. His neck stung where teeth had sunk into his flesh and was damp where Koujaku’s wet breaths hit. _God,_ he felt good.

And then Koujaku kissed him.

It wasn’t the same as the first time. This was not a quick peck to his cheek that he didn’t have time to think about. This was Koujaku’s mouth pressed against his own, moving gently but steadily. Warm. Wet. Far less teeth and tongue than he was used to and Koujaku’s thumb stroking over the soft part of his cheek. He couldn’t breathe suddenly. It was like his lungs had never felt air and he couldn’t see or hear or even taste the smoke on Koujaku’s tongue. He felt warm. Not the burning, fiery rush of adrenaline he craved, but the slow-spreading heat of sunlight through his window.

His hand twitched helplessly at his side, desperate to hold something, to ground himself. He felt like his brain had short-circuited and he nearly _whimpered_ when long fingers stroked across his jaw --

And then it was gone. Koujaku’s nose pressed back into the soft flesh behind his ear and him working on not trembling. He tried not to focus on it. Tried to push it out of his mind. It was just a heat-of-the-moment thing, right? Koujaku liked to kiss and they were in the afterglow and he felt so relaxed and comfortable against him that of course he would be gentle, right, and-

He snapped out of the thought when Koujaku hummed and shifted so his chest was to Sly’s back. “Can I stay the night?” he murmured, running a hand down Sly’s arm.

It took far longer than he would have liked for Sly to register that Koujaku had asked him a _question._ He swallowed, though it did nothing to help the lump in his throat, and whispered a shaky, “Yeah.”

Koujaku gave him a muttered confirmation before the hand around his waist grew heavy with sleep.

Koujaku was the only one who got any sleep that night.

 

It was only a few days before he called Koujaku again. He was riding high off of nasty fight, ego glowing from his win and excess energy begging for some kind of outlet.

He had a few people he could have used for that, but Koujaku was his favorite.

Sly felt even better when Koujaku agreed, on top of the world and ready to be brought down by his favorite fuck-buddy. He kicked the door open a little too eagerly when he got to Koujaku’s home, mentally blaming it on the racing hormones the fight had left him with and the scrapes he could still feel on his knuckles.

“Hey, handsome,” he purred, sauntering up to Koujaku with his hands in his pockets. “Didja miss me?”

Koujaku smiled at him. But something was off about it. It was uneasy. Forced. Sly’s temporary confidence wavered a little and he was immediately regretting trailing his hands down Koujaku’s abs.

“Do you always have sex on your mind?”

“What, d’you not?”

Koujaku’s smile flickered into something real for a second, then fell back into falseness. “Will you sit with me for a second? I want to talk to you about something.”

“Oh god, you’re fuck-buddy breaking up with me, aren’t you?”

All of the tension in the room vanished briefly in a bark of laughter at the fabricated seriousness of Sly’s features. “Nah, I think I’ll keep you around for a little while,” Koujaku said, smiling impishly.

He maneuvered Sly onto his couch (a spot that was quickly becoming a favorite of his,) and curled around him so his chest was to Sly’s back. And that was...new. He was used to Koujaku holding him as they slept, or in the friendly, platonic way he held Aoba. But this was serious and desperate, like he was afraid Sly would leave if he didn’t pin him to his own body.

He wondered if he should, his cockiness disappearing into thin air.

“I need you to hear me out, all right? Nothing's your fault and it’s not going to change anything between us, but I need you to know. It’s my baggage, not yours. I trust you, Sly, and I don’t want to worry you, but I still need to tell--”

 _“Koujaku,”_ he interrupted. His beating around the bush was starting to make him anxious. He hoped Koujaku would get the message to hurry up and just _tell_ him. Do it quick, like ripping off a band-aid.

Behind him, Koujaku sighed, took a deep breath in, and then he spoke.

“When we slept together,” he started, “the first few times, I got really...rough. I mean, I know we’re always rough but that was more, that was different. I got _violent_. And that wasn’t ok, not at all.”

Sly made a sound that was halfway between nervous and mocking. “You know I liked that, right? That’s what I was going for? I was trying to get you riled up enough that you would just man up and fuck me.”

“No it-- that wasn’t even sex it--”

“Koujaku, I _like_ getting knocked around. I like having to fight back.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!” Koujaku bellowed. His grip on Sly’s thigh was so tight it was almost painful. Then, slowly, it began to ease up. The muscles against his back relaxed gradually and Koujaku exhaled into his shoulder blades. “This just...this isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

Koujaku was heavy against him. Small, almost. Like how Sly got when his body felt like it was someone else’s, when he didn’t feel real. It made him nervous. He squirmed and tried to turn around, suddenly wanting, _needing_ to hold Koujaku closer to him. Koujaku held him steady, but he rested his chin on Sly’s shoulder and eased them both back against the arm of the couch so Sly didn’t feel so trapped.

Silence held between them for a long moment. Sly’s heart was thundering in his chest with his sudden anxiety. But it helped. Having Koujaku there to ground him helped. He allowed himself a few shallow breaths, swallowed, and in a voice much quieter than he would have liked, he asked, “What do you mean it’s not the first time?”

He heard a sound of muted irritation. Like Koujaku was trying to figure out what words to use. “I… You know my old man was a yakuza, right?”

Sly hummed in affirmation. “Yeah. You went to the mainland ‘cause he needed an heir or something, right? And you’re his only kid?”

“Exactly. Me and my mom went back together. He was a sick son of a bitch, you know. Treated her like shit. Treated _me_ like shit too, but it was worse with her.” His voice dropped into something lower, angrier. “She never did anything to deserve it. I didn’t see her much after he did…” he gestured to the black ink snaking down his arm, “This. But when I did she always had new bruises or was wearing something to cover them up. She tried to tell me it was nothing and that I shouldn’t worry about _her_ when she was supposed to worry about _me._ But I knew what that bastard was doing to her, I fucking _knew--”_

Koujaku cut himself off, rubbing the space between his eyes in frustration. After a moment he took in a deep breath and slipped his arm back around Sly’s waist. “He got really bad one time. He was making some kind of deal with another family and she stepped out of line. She must’ve...said something he didn’t want her to, or did something he didn’t approve of -- god, I can’t even remember now -- but he came at her hard. He hit her over and over again and she was bleeding and I...I saw red. I don’t know what happened, I don’t remember what I did. When I came back to myself all of them were dead. Mom was-- and I was hurt and I knew that I had been in the fight but I don’t know who got to her. I don’t know if I was the one who--”

Koujaku’s voice broke and he cut himself off. His breathing was uneven. Shaky. Sly silently thanked him for not crying. He didn’t know if he could deal with that just then.

Sly felt like he was watching himself through someone else’s eyes. Watching it sink in, waiting to see how he would react. His voice sounded too loud and too removed to be his own. He almost caught himself off guard when he heard his own voice ask, “Why are you telling _me_ this?”

“I don’t want to hurt you or get violent. Rough is fine, but I get worried that I’ll...lose control again.” Koujaku huffed and Sly felt a bitter smile against his neck. “I don’t know. I guess you should know so that you can get out now, if you want to.”

Sly tried to glance back at him. He didn’t look so distant anymore, but he still didn’t seem like he was all right. He twisted in Koujaku’s lap so he was laying more with his cheek pressed to his chest instead of his back. The warning bells were going off in his head. Too close, too gentle. He was going to take it too far. But he pushed that away and curled in close instead.

Koujaku hummed and pulled him in tighter, grateful for the comfort. He pressed the outline of his mouth to Sly’s temple and carded a hand through his hair, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger in a self-soothing, nervous tic.

Sly blinked slowly, then he said in almost a whisper, “Do you get nightmares about it?”

“Mmm, sometimes. Why? Have I woken you up?”

He shrugged. “Once or twice. ‘Didn’t ever think it was a big deal.” He glanced up at Koujaku. “Is there something I should do when you get ‘em or should I just leave you alone?”

“This helps,” he said, gesturing to their current position. “Let me make sure I didn’t... _do_ anything and that you’re fine. And don’t touch my back.”

“‘Kay.”

Koujaku tugged him back into their previous position and his nails resumed scratching gently at his nape. Sly’s eyes unfocused in relaxation. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours before he registered either one of them moving again.

Koujaku unburied his nose from Sly’s hair and gave him a look that was part amused and part self-depreciative. “How is this not freaking you out?”

Sly smirked to himself before twisting around and flashing Koujaku a wicked grin. “Dunno. Guess I’m just into some freaky stuff.”

Koujaku snorted and shoved his face away with one hand. “Dumbass.”

“Loser,” Sly retorted. He snatched Koujaku’s hand with both of his and attempted to nip at his palm, for which he received a series of lighthearted smacks and sniggers.

Koujaku looped one arm around his waist and knocked them both back against the headrest again. He looked significantly better than he had before. Relieved. Happy. Like the weight was off his chest. Sly would swear up and down that his heart did _not_ surge with pride knowing he helped get rid of that weight.

Koujaku jerked his head towards the remote near Sly’s leg and shook his hair out of its tie. “Put something on, it’s too quiet in here.” He smiled lazily and tipped his head back, exposing the pale skin of his neck. A fading bruise painted the inside shadow of his collarbone. Sly grinned again, making a mental note to darken it up later.

He grabbed the remote, flipped on some movie he didn’t recognize, and tossed it off to the side, wriggling in Koujaku’s lap so he could sprawl further across the couch. Koujaku had one arm at his hip when he settled, stroking his side absentmindedly.

The movie played uninterrupted for a few minutes, though neither of them were really paying any attention to it. It ended up being more background noise than anything. But that wasn’t so bad. Sly’s mind was blissfully empty and Koujaku was warm and the steady rhythm of his breathing was a soothing familiarity. Sly thought he could have stayed like that for a long time.

Koujaku shifted behind him so he could press faint kisses along his hairline, breaking the calm. Sly didn’t exactly mind that either though. The gentle touch on his neck certainly wasn’t unwelcome -- not in the slightest. But the feeling of lips on skin was so feather-light that it heightened his sensitivity. He could detect every breath, every brush of his mouth. All of his focus zeroed in on Koujaku’s ministrations, vision slipping into a blurry fog when Koujaku sucked at his collarbone with just enough pressure to make him sigh.

He almost jolted when he felt the hand at his waist slide lower towards his hips. It paused at his hipbone, thumb rubbing over it in small circles before moving back to his side. This time nails scratched ever so slightly up to his ribcage, his shirt dragging along with them. He suppressed a shiver.

He sighed a little more audibly when the fingers of Koujaku’s other hand started tracing along his jawline. He was touching him so delicately. Sly wasn’t used to being treated delicately. He liked it rough. Fast-paced. Everything was a fight, a subtle shot of adrenaline to make his blood run hot. Not this tenderness that Koujaku was lavishing on him. He didn’t know what to do with this. Roughness, he understood. He knew how to handle roughness. Knew what to do with it to make his skin spark and his head buzz with the fire of existence.

But that was what Koujaku always did to him, wasn’t it?

Man, _fuck_ Koujaku.

Sly nearly gasped when Koujaku’s palm settled flat against his chest, trailing down over the soft flesh and ropey muscles of his stomach. He covered the sharp inhale with a huff of amusement. “Getting kinda handsy there, aren’t ya?”

Koujaku didn’t respond, just traced his tongue over the tendons of his neck.

Sly bit his own tongue stifle another sound of pleasure. “Do you wanna fuck?”

Koujaku halted his actions for a second. Then he maneuvered the arm at Sly’s jaw to coil around him once more and planted a firm kiss behind his ear. “Nah,” he replied, low and breathy. “I just want to touch you and kiss your neck for a bit.”

Sly’s eyelids flickered shut and he tilted his head to the side to give Koujaku more skin to cover. “Ok.”

He felt a grin against his ear. “It’s easier to kiss here now that your hair is gone.”

A scowl pulled automatically at Sly’s features. He turned around to snap back at the taunt but found himself having to suppress a whine instead when he felt teeth scrape over the spot between his neck and his shoulder.

Scraping turned into biting -- just briefly, just hard enough to bruise -- and then biting turned back into open mouthed kisses all down his collarbone and shoulder. Sly knew he was gasping. He tried his best to suppress it, but he could still hear the tiny, soft noises he was making in the back of his throat. Koujaku must have heard them too, if his pleased hum was any evidence. His hands were warm. They were always warm, but this time they felt searing, pressed up against his chest and his hip. Calloused palms and scarred knuckles stroking over his skin. He shivered.

Another wet kiss just behind his ear broke any resolve he had been trying to hold onto and he swiveled around so quickly it caught Koujaku off guard. Without even thinking, Sly grabbed both sides of his face and kissed him hard, sighing after a moment when Koujaku responded with equal enthusiasm. His arms were strong around him but his kisses were slow and sweet. Sly felt like he couldn’t breathe in the best way. He never wanted to stop this. He wanted to stay like this forever, with Koujaku holding him close and kissing him so well he felt dizzy.

He knew he was trembling but he couldn’t make himself let go. Couldn’t make himself pull back even an inch to regain his lost composure. He wanted it so badly, had craved it for so long that it took away any strength he had left to resist his own desires.

It was Koujaku who broke away instead. Both of them were panting, breathless. Koujaku nuzzled into the side of his neck again, sucking over the mark he had already left to darken it.

Sly’s eyes slipped closed. He felt so...comfortable. His heart was beating steadily and his cheeks were warm and Koujaku was tucked safely to his chest. He felt so _real_ next to Koujaku.

“You always shake when I kiss you.”

Koujaku had his mouth on him when he spoke, muffling his words. But Sly could still hear him, still feel his voice vibrating through his skin. If anything, it only made him shake harder.

He shuddered, almost pulling back before Koujaku’s other hand stroked along his jaw again and he groaned, yanking Koujaku away from his shoulder and kissing him hard and deep.

Koujaku’s hand snaked up his back and rubbed gently between his shoulder blades. In contrast, his other hand tangled itself in his hair and _pulled_ so good that Sly had to bite his own tongue to keep his from whining.

And then it was different again. Back to the soft, slow kisses of before. Koujaku broke off and unknotted his fingers from Sly’s hair so he could knock their foreheads together. His face was too close and blurred, but Sly could still see him smile. It was sweeter. Mellow.

_It was how he smiled at Aoba._

Sly certainly didn’t have time to think about _that_ for long. Koujaku had leaned away from him and was looking at him expectantly.

He realized, belatedly, that Koujaku had asked him something and was waiting for an answer. “What?” he blurted.

Koujaku swallowed a laugh. “I _said,_ do you wanna spend the night? We don’t have to have sex or anything, you can just...stay over. Like when we were kids.” He smiled and patted Sly’s arms like a happy child.

Sly blinked once, his reply coming out more breathless than he would have liked, “Oh. Yeah, sure.”

Koujaku looked like he was still trying not to giggle, but all he did was lean up and give him one more chaste kiss. “You can steal one of my t-shirts to sleep in. I’m gonna shower real quick and then we can go to bed, ok?”

“Yeah, sure,” he repeated, dazed.

That time Koujaku really did laugh, lifting Sly off his lap and standing with his hands on his hips. “Geez, I knew I was a good kisser, but I didn’t think you’d get _that_ wrecked.”

He was ducking away into the bathroom before Sly could come to his senses. “You piece of--” he tried, snatching the discarded remote and narrowly missing Koujaku’s head with it. Koujaku just cackled.

Sly huffed and rolled his eyes, stretching out like a cat before hauling himself off the couch and disappearing into Koujaku’s room. By the time he heard the water running he had stripped down to his boxers and picked a random shirt out of Koujaku’s dresser. A red one, he noticed after he already had it on. Of course it was a fucking red one.

Nice.

He sighed and flopped down onto Koujaku’s bed, ripping the sheets back with more force than was necessary and burying himself under them. The water shut off a moment later, and then Koujaku was crawling into bed behind him. He smelled good. Like citrus and sandalwood. His skin was water-slick where he tossed an arm around Sly’s torso and his breath was warm where it hit the top of his spine.

He wondered if Koujaku would care if he turned around to face him, just this once. They had always slept back-to-back or back-to-chest. Would he mind if Sly tucked himself against him one time? Koujaku had said he wanted to sleep together like they had when they were younger, right? Well, that _was_ how it used to be. Aoba under one arm and Sly under the other. The only difference this time was that Aoba wasn’t there. It was just the two of them.

Fuck.

He was thinking way too much again.

He forced himself out of his own head and rolled over, wrapping his arms around Koujaku’s waist and burying himself against his bare chest. His skin was still tacky from the shower.

Koujaku was already mostly asleep. All he did was curl around Sly in return and tuck his chin against the top of Sly’s head, breathing steady and slow with sleep.

It didn’t take long for him to follow.

 

“...y.”

The bed was warm and the pillow clutched between his arms was silky and smelled like Koujaku’s cologne. Or shampoo. Or both, probably both, given that his bathroom was filled to the brim with different scents.

“...Sly.”

He didn’t want to move. Falling back asleep in Koujaku’s bed, under Koujaku’s blankets, surrounded by Koujaku’s too-many pillows sounded like absolute heaven.

“Slyyy.”

Koujaku shook him lightly and Sly groaned, cocooning himself deeper into the mass of blankets and pillows and grumbling incoherently at being woken up.

“Do you want breakfast?”

Sly could almost hear the smirk in his voice and he thought to himself that if he had any energy he would have smacked Koujaku. He settled for mumbling profanities into the sheets.

“There’s paaancaaakes.”

An interested mumble that time. Sly pulled the blankets down an inch, just far enough that he could squint against the morning glare at Koujaku. “What kind?” he asked blearily, voice rough and low in his barely-awake state.

Koujaku flashed him a shit-eating grin and Sly felt the impulse to smack him again. “Chocolate chip.”

He narrowed his eyes at him. Then he gave in to his own rumbling stomach and wriggled out like a caterpillar. “‘M takin’ the blanket.”

“That’s fine.”

Sly rolled out of bed and jerked the blanket around him like a cape. He nearly fell onto Koujaku’s couch and lay on his arms half asleep until a pile of pancakes was placed in front of him. “Aww, how sweet of you to make me breakfast,” he mocked, voice high and brimming with satire.

“I made them for _me,_ you’re just lucky there were extras,” Koujaku shot back with a grin.

“Since when can you cook?”

“I can make, like, three things and pancakes is one of them.”

“Let’s hope they’re decent.”

“You don’t want them? More for me then.” He slid in next to Sly and reached one arm around him to snatch a forkful of pancakes off of his plate, holding his own out of reach and kicking Sly away playfully when he tried to get back at him.

Talking came easy after that, even when it wasn’t so much talking as it was leaning up against each other, blissfully silent. Neither of them moved off the couch until the sun was high in the sky, only shifting together to switch who was half-laying on top of who.

When Aoba sent him his fourth text within the hour, asking where he was, Sly groaned and hauled himself up into a sitting position.

“Was that Aoba again?”

“Yeah. This time it says ‘Get your ass home or I’m eating your share of Granny’s brownies.’”

“No fair. I want brownies.”

Sly caught his tongue between his teeth. “Too bad you can only make pancakes.”

“If I remember correctly, you ate every bite of yours and were eyeing mine up too, shithead,” he laughed, shoving Sly off the couch with his foot and stretching into the now-empty space.

Sly stuck his tongue out further and winked at him for emphasis. “Uh-huh, whatever you say. I’ll see ya later, yeah? Aoba’s gonna get pissed if I’m not back soon.”

“Mmm, sure.” Koujaku threw Sly’s jacket over his head, laughing and ruffling his hair underneath it.

Sly whacked his chest in mock irritation and yanked the jacket off his head and then--

And then there was a mouth on his and warm palms on his hips and Sly’s brain shut down so fast he could almost hear it short-circuiting.

It didn’t last long. Two, maybe three kisses and Koujaku was falling back onto the couch, waving him goodbye. “Tell Aoba I said hi.”

It took him a minute for the cogs in his brain to start turning again, but when the did he could almost instantly feel the tips of his ears getting red.

So he was _blushing_ now? Great. Fan-fucking-tastic.

He flipped up the hood of his jacket in a botched attempt to disguise his embarrassment. “Gross,” he muttered knocking Koujaku to the side with the heel of his foot, “don’t kiss me goodbye. Fuckin’ sap.”

He could hear Koujaku sniggering behind him as he wrenched the door open with more force than was necessary. “Byeee, Sly.”

Sly blew a raspberry into his hand and shut the door before Koujaku could retort.

Why did he have to go and do something as stupid as kiss him goodbye, Sly thought to himself. He didn’t do that. _They_ didn’t do that. That was for sickeningly romantic tv couples, not _them._ There was absolutely no reason for Koujaku to do that, right? It was probably just to get a rise out of him. Asshole.

He never noticed that he kept touching his mouth the whole walk home.

 

Sly spent a lot of time out on the balcony. More than he probably should have. He wasn’t quite sure when it started -- sometime after he met Virus and Trip but before Koujaku returned from the mainland. The time when he tried his damndest to avoid going home but couldn’t stay away for nearly as long as he would have liked. So he sat on the balcony. Only the pleasant background hum of the street below to bother him.

And Aoba, on occasion.

It was a cool night, not exactly the most pleasant time to be outside. But there he was. Thinking too much about everything and not about anything at all. He heard Aoba sit down next to him but didn’t bother to look up. He didn’t need too. Aoba looped and arm around him anyway, leaning slack against him.

“...You ok?”

Sly shrugged.

He felt Aoba sag and exhale through his nose. “Sly, you’ve got to stop this. Every time you’re with Koujaku you come back miserable.”

“‘M _fine.”_

Aoba shot him a look.

Sly pulled a face and shot him one back.

“Come on, you’re into him right? Like, actually interested in him?”

“Oh gee, how did you know?” he said sarcastically.

Aoba grinned at him. “I’m your twin; I know everything. Aaand you’re really bad at trying to hide it. I’ve known for weeks.”

“Lovely,” he muttered.

Aoba paused for a second, fingers rubbing up and down his arm. “Just talk to him. It’s killing me to _watch_ you do this to yourself, I can’t even imagine how bad it must be to be in your place. Koujaku is our best friend, the worst that’s going to happen is that he says he doesn’t feel the same way and you both move on. But you can’t keep doing this.”

Sly sat with his knees tucked up to his chest, arms across them, and his chin resting on top. When he felt Aoba’s hand smooth through his hair he turned to face him, cheek on the back of his hand. “You ever had to do that before? Just--” he gestured with one hand in a futile attempt to get his point across “--tell somebody?”

“No. I’ve never had a ‘somebody.’” His nose wrinkled a little and he shrugged. “I mean, I like people enough, I’ve just never really had the… desire for anything else. Romantic or sexual.”

There was that word again. Desire. I seemed to follow him everywhere; rhyme games, his own thoughts, goddamn Koujaku’s goddamn bed. Desire. Drive. Instinct. What was it about that word that was so familiar?

Maybe it was because that word _was_ him, in a sense. That was how he worked. Everything he did was based around his own innate instinct. He worked from his soul instead of his head, following whatever drew him in and doing whatever he wanted. It was how he was made, how he functioned, every piece of him revolved around it. Around that desire. It consumed him and made him into who he was. Who he wanted to be.

Maybe it wasn’t so confusing after all.

“Sly?”

He sighed and glanced back at Aoba.

“Tell me you’ll talk to him, ok? For me?”

Aoba really did look concerned. His face was pinched, brow drawn together, mouth in a thin, tight line.

Sly blinked, almost surprised, then smirked and wiggled his pinkie at Aoba.

For a second Aoba just stared, bewildered. But then he laughed, wrapping his own pinkie around Sly’s and tapping their foreheads together.

“Ok, I’ll talk to him. Promise.”

 

He really did plan to keep his promise to Aoba. It was just that they hadn’t set any specific _time_ that he was supposed to bring it up to Koujaku so there was no harm in putting it off a little while longer, right?

Well, maybe there was.

Aoba’s advice was still fresh in his mind when he met up with Koujaku a few days later. It was Koujaku who had asked him to come over this time, texting him just after dinner. And he knew it was a bad idea, he knew he should have just he was busy and give himself a few days away from Koujaku.

Instead he said he’d be right over.

He hated how damn weak he was to that man.

He was quieter than usual when he arrived. His hood was up, his shoulders were slouched, he just said “Hey,” instead of making his usual snide remark or comment. And Koujaku had somehow managed to stain his hands with hair dye in the time that they had been apart too. A prime opportunity to ridicule him, missed.

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

There was his chance. Just say, ‘No, I need to talk to you for a minute first.’ He felt himself shrugging and almost swat his shoulders back down for betraying him. But it was too late, Koujaku was already dragging him over to his couch by the arm.

Sly felt like he was almost in a trance. Numb. Everything seemed unreal, including himself. But it was like his head couldn’t be bothered to fight it just then, too exhausted to try and remind him that the hands he saw were his own and his voice wasn’t actually speaking on autopilot. He heard himself making comments on the movie, though without his usual enthusiasm, and he could see the flashing images just fine even if his brain wasn’t registering anything that was happening. He knew he should have been frightened. It was really bad this time. Somewhere in the fog he managed to make himself grasp Koujaku’s hand and move so that their shoulders were touching, and that helped and Koujaku kissed the top of his head and squeezed his hand tight. He vaguely noticed that both of them had stopped talking, he was watching his own knees instead of the movie and Koujaku was looking at him, why was he looking at him? Why couldn’t he just look away and let him disconnect even further because he _had_ to disconnect, he couldn’t handle being present when Koujaku was being sweet to him and why couldn’t he just _tell_ him--

“Are you all right?”

He forced himself to meet Koujaku’s eyes then, even though he wasn’t really seeing him. “Yeah,” he whispered, voice quiet and feeble. A tiny siren was going off in the back of his mind telling him that _no_ he was most definitely _not_ ok, but for some reason he couldn’t make his mouth form the right words.

“Are you sure?” Koujaku let go of Sly’s hand to cup both of his cheeks instead. “You’re really quiet and you look kind of...out of it.”

“I’m fine.” Sly’s voice sounded too loud in his own head but he could tell he wasn’t shouting.

Koujaku’s expression shifted from worry to real concern. His eyes were wide and he moved almost frantically to stroke his hair, completely at a loss for what to do. “Sly--”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, standing suddenly.

Koujaku reached for his hand again. He kept his voice low and soft, like he was trying to coax a frightened animal towards him. “Hey, no, come here--”

“Leave me alone!”

The second Koujaku’s fingers touched his own Sly felt like he had been shocked and he wrenched his hand away in a panic. He didn’t realize he was running until it was already happening, until he slammed Koujaku’s door open and darted across the street blindly. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t recognize anything around him but at the same time it all looked familiar. He just kept moving forward like it would kill him to stop.

When he finally did stop he didn’t realize it for a moment. He hardly even noticed that the wood digging into his palms was part of a tree. He just froze there, panting heavily, trying to catch his breath, coming back to himself. Touching something solid was helping to bring him down. Helping him recognize what had just happened.

After a minute he was finally grounded enough to take in his surroundings. Two slides. Swingset. Monkey bars. He had run all the way to the park he and Aoba used to play at when they were little and Tae had to work late. The park where Koujaku used to meet up with them every chance he got, back when they idolized him and he still looked at him like they were made of sunlight.

And then Sly broke.

Not slowly, watching it build and build until he couldn’t handle it and everything spilled over. But all at once. Shattering from the inside out. He broke hard and his eyes filled with tears and he couldn’t stop them before he was sobbing, making those involuntary gasping noises that came with crying too hard. He sunk to the ground and curled his hands into fists to press them against his eyes, desperately trying to stop from crying. It didn’t help. He twisted around so his back was firm against the tree and tucked his knees to his chest so he could curl in on himself. He was getting his jeans wet but he didn’t care, trying to get enough air to breathe normal in hiccuping gulps.

It was past sunset when he finally collected himself enough to stop crying. His eyes were red and his lungs were sore and he didn’t bother to unbury his head from where it was against his legs. He was exhausted. He couldn’t imagine moving from that spot ever again.

He heard footsteps coming towards him, but he still didn’t bother to look up. From the space between his arms and his legs he could see Koujaku’s shoes and the hem of his kimono heading his way. He felt shame fill him in a dull wave. Here he was, sitting in his childhood park, crying his eyes out like he was ten again and making Koujaku chase after him. He didn’t care. Fuck Koujaku. He could leave if he wanted to.

Koujaku stopped just short of him. Sly could feel his stare heavy on his back. Entirely for Koujaku’s sake, he lifted his head from his knees and rested it on his arms instead, suddenly very interested in observing whatever was happening on the ground. Koujaku was just watching him. Waiting to see if he would speak first. When it became apparent that Sly was perfectly happy to keep silent and had no intention of starting a conversation, thank you very much, he sighed and took it upon himself.

“Hey.”

“Fuck off,” Sly snapped back almost immediately, keeping his voice low and raspy so it wouldn’t break.

Koujaku set his jaw. Then he inhaled slowly and sat down next to Sly with his back against the tree. “Nope.”

“Fuck you then.”

Koujaku was looking at him. He could feel his eyes practically boring a hole into the side of his head. Sly didn’t meet his gaze. “...Why?”

So much for not looking back at him, Sly couldn’t resist a glare at that.

“Ok, Ok, I get it, ‘fuck me,’ but why? Why are you mad at me?”

And that was funny. That was really fucking funny because it wasn’t funny at all and Sly was laughing and it ended up being so high he sounded almost hysterical. He tossed both arms over his eyes and sunk down on the tree, laughing ridiculously hard. “I got it so bad for you. You’re fuckin’ awful, y’know that? God, I got it so fuckin’ bad for you and you’re the worst person I’ve ever met, so fuck off and fuck you and fuck me.”

There was silence between them for a minute. A minute that was far too long and not nearly long enough. Long enough for him to realize what exactly it was he had just said but not long enough for him to sink into the ground and disappear forever like he wished he could. He couldn’t stand it. He needed Koujaku to say something, _do_ something. He needed him to stand up and leave or kiss him or punch him or something. The silence stretching between them instead felt like it was strangling him.

“You should have told me.”

And Koujaku didn’t sound angry. Or upset. In fact, he actually sounded...relieved?

He moved his arm off his eyes enough that he could see him.

Koujaku was smiling at him. A little admonishing and a little happy and a lot of things Sly couldn’t quite place. His eyes crinkled in the corners where his smile pushed his cheeks up. He cocked his head to the side a little, eyes bright and filled with so much affection that Sly thought he might burst. “I got it pretty bad for you too.”

His heart stopped. There was a lump in his throat and he swallowed to try and help it, but it didn’t work. “What?” he croaked.

Koujaku was still smiling when he took Sly into his arms and kissed the top of his head. “I’m interested in you, head over heels, completely in love, how do you want me to say it?”

Any brain function Sly had left ceased to exist in that moment. His mouth felt dry and his tongue felt like lead and he couldn’t believe he was even capable of asking softly, “What about Aoba?”

“What about him?”

“I...aren’t you...in love with _him?”_

Koujaku’s hand moved from his shoulder to stroke his hair and Sly almost broke down again with how much it felt like coming home. “I was, for a long time. But that’s over now. You got me, Sly. It’s your fault, how could I not fall for someone like you?”

Sly wished the earth would open up and swallow him with how good a line _that bad_ got him. But it did. It did and he threw his arms around Koujaku’s neck and thwacked his chest with a fist and pulled him in so close there wasn’t a breath of space left between them. “Fuck you, you fucking asshole. God, you-- you’re fucking _awful_ and I hate you,” he sniveled, because he _was_ sniveling and he hid his face in Koujaku’s shoulder so he wouldn’t see.

Koujaku just held him, kissing his temple, the top of his head, his ear, wherever he could reach. “I know, I know. It’s ok. I’ve got you.”

It took Sly longer than he would admit for him to recover himself enough that Koujaku could let him go and lead him home, holding his hand like he was a kid again. He scowled the whole way back to Koujaku’s place, trying unsuccessfully to convince him that _no_ he had _not_ been crying (to which Koujaku laughingly told him he’d always cried easy and then proceeded to bring up every instance he had ever seen him cry until Sly smothered a hand over his mouth and threatened to go home right now if he didn’t shut up). They had barely gotten through the door before Koujaku was kissing him so gently it made his knees weak and scratching blunt nails down the length of his spine.

He pushed Koujaku away and held him at arm’s length before any of the embarrassing noises bubbling up in his throat could escape. “We should at least go to your room if you’re still gonna fuck me.”

Koujaku gave him a bemused, teasing look. “I’m not going to fuck you. I’m going to make love to you.”

Sly shouldn’t have blushed at that. But he did and he groaned and smacked his palms to his face so he didn’t have to look at Koujaku. “Why can’t you just say ‘have sex’ like a normal person?”

Koujaku just laughed.

Suddenly, Sly felt his feet leave the ground and his waist bend over something solid. Koujaku had thrown him over his shoulder, hauling him towards his bedroom, and Sly pounded at his back indignantly at being carried like a sack of potatoes before he was tossed onto the bed with a thump and Koujaku was hovering over him again, kissing him breathless.

He pushed Sly’s shirt up off his body far too slowly, making sure his hands could graze every inch of newly revealed skin. Sly was shaking. He felt shy for some reason. Inexperienced. All of the times he and Koujaku had slept together before were suddenly thrown out the window and it was like everything was brand new again.

He lifted his hips so Koujaku could take off the rest of his clothing, only breaking the kiss to pull his shirt off over his head. He whined when Koujaku’s hands left him to remove his kimono, but for once he was glad Koujaku always wore that stupid thing; he didn’t have to stop kissing him to take it off, at least.

And he didn’t, slipping his tongue over Sly’s bottom lip and lovingly sliding his hand, now free, over his neck and into his hair. Sly couldn’t stop making tiny, helpless sounds, mind blanking and fingers scratching at Koujaku’s arms to try and keep from completely melting under his touch.

Koujaku finally broke away to plant open-mouthed kisses down his chest and Sly’s teeth worried his lip to hold back a whimper. Not that it worked, he still mewled -- actually fucking _mewled_ \-- and that dragged Koujaku’s attention away from his chest and to his own expression.

At least Koujaku looked as wrecked as he felt. The bridge of his nose was dusted pink and his eyes were intense, pupils blown wide. Sweat glinted on his bare thighs and his lip was kiss-swollen where he ran his tongue over it. He looked down at Sly like he was the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen, rubbing a thumb over his cheek. “You’re really beautiful,” he said, smiling and glancing away bashfully.

Sly felt his entire frame quiver at the compliment. Embarrassed, (when had he started getting embarrassed,) he tried to turn his face away and bury it into the side of the pillow.

Koujaku caught his jaw in his palm before he could and eased it back towards him. “Don’t, I want to see you.”

Sly felt the blood rush to his cheeks.“Quit saying shit like that,” he grumbled, squirming under the attention.

“Why? Because you like it?”

He blushed even harder. Bullseye.

Koujaku chuckled and resumed leaving hickeys down his chest. “My beautiful boy,” he mumbled against his skin, and Sly arched against him and made a high, needy sound.

The rest was a blur of hands and lips and heat. Koujaku was holding him close, telling him how _good_ he felt, and then he was moving inside him so slowly and kissing him so tenderly he couldn’t breathe and he didn’t want too. It was all too wonderful. Koujaku was showering him with with praise and tenderness and it made him tremble. He held him so tightly. He’d never been held like that. Like he would never be let go. It was all so perfect it almost made him anxious, but then Koujaku kissed away all his unease and filled him with warmth instead.

He was shivering after they both came back to themselves. Koujaku pressed his body down on him  like a blanket, like a safety, kissing his nose and cheeks and hair and everywhere he could reach. He felt dazed and happy. This was perfect. If they could just stay like this forever, he would never need anything else again.

Koujaku pulled him into his arms and tucked him close to his chest, petting his hair and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. The sheets were soft on his sides. It was like everything was falling into place. Something inside of him was scared it would all end tomorrow, he would wake up and it would be a dream. But something else, a bigger part, would have been happy even if that did happen. All he needed right now was this.

He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “I love you,” into Koujaku’s chest.

Koujaku just held him, running a hand sleepily over his back in long, even strokes. “I love you too, Sly.”

And there, in that moment, Sly believed every word.

 


End file.
